


Broken Compass

by luway



Series: Stray Tides [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Baker Minho, Blink and you'll miss it, Captain Chan, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Guns, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, It Makes Sense When You Read It, Kidnapping, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Violence, Pirate Jisung, Pirates, Stray Kids as pirates, Swords, Team as Family, Violence, also my history teacher ranting about ballast, hyunmin are dorks, kind of?, they both love Jeongin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luway/pseuds/luway
Summary: Minho never expects to see Jisung again when after an accident at sea, he is pronounced dead.Left with nothing but a necklace to remember him by, Minho faces six years alone. Taken from his home and spending a year in what can only be described as a living hell, he expects his end to come when the ship he is on is boarded by pirates.Until a ghost from his past returns, and with a brand new family Minho gets his chance at a new start.





	Broken Compass

**Author's Note:**

> i spent two days with Broken Compass on repeat while writing this, so i decided to use that as the title even though i usually stray away from using songs as titles
> 
> i love historical au's and pirates and just everything about that kind of stuff so i really enjoyed writing this
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> Finished Editing 190103

♚❈♚

_“I’m left to rely on a broken compass,_

_To swim in an open sea”_

 

 

 

“Today’s batch came out well, Minho.”

 

The strong hand on his shoulder fills Minho with a sense of pride as he carefully drags the freshly baked bread out of the oven, his clothes covered in flour and small scorch marks from hours of slaving away on kneading and placing the loaves over the fire that would warm them up to par.

 

“Get those onto the shelves, then hurry down to the docks.” Minho’s Mentor, and their town’s baker Kim Hyojin, doesn’t look up as he speaks to his apprentice. “There’s a new shipment of jams waiting with that bastard Han. You know the one?”

 

“Yes Sir.” Minho responds as he shelves the cooling bread, enjoying the way it crackles under his touch when he squeezes just a bit, and the way the sweet smell drifts through the air and fills the bakery with a smell that reminds Minho of home—or what home used to be.

 

“Good, now hurry up before he casts off with my goods. I want you back within half the hour, you know what happens if you dawdle.”

 

Minho nods as he removes his apron, hanging it up and taking a moment to brush the flour off the rough fabric of his trousers and fix his right sleeve where it had rolled down earlier.

 

It takes everything in Minho to stay at the same pace as he slips past Hyojin and out the back door, knowing that if he runs he will no doubt be scolded. Hyojin is a kind mentor, Minho appreciates his teaching tactics, and the roof over his head, but Hyojin has one hell of a backhand when Minho happens to fuck up. He is only an apprentice after all, and at the mere age of fifteen he’s not yet a man, and is still punished as a child would be.

 

His place in the bakery is a privilege, the hours he spends learning Hyojin’s recipes could very well be spend bent over a bucket scrubbing the floors and feeding the rejected items to the swine who live in the pigsty out back after he cleans it.

 

Minho spends long hours in the heat of the ovens, and in the stuffy room in the back where all he can smell is yeast and stale water as he kneads bread until his arms tremble and it grows painful to continue on. Time and effort have made it easier, but it doesn’t change that it’s hard work.

 

He takes the moments he has to go out and breathe fresh air and treats them as precious moments. They are so few and far between, after all.

 

His town is a merchant village mostly, its port being one of the most popular in the kingdom—or so he hears. Minho has never been farther than a kilometer into the wheat fields that surround the village walls, and the ocean to him is a whole new world he can’t seem to fathom. Not yet. The edge of the world seems to be so close, but in reality it's still very far. Everything seems to go on forever.

 

The ships that take shelter in the bay that holds the docks are full of stories. Stories of sailors who claim they have seen mermaids, and all sorts of monsters. Old navy officers that walk along sea salt slicked wood that creaks with each step, calling horseshit on every young sailors stories, paying no attention to Minho has he slips past them.

 

Then there are the merchants, who tell stories of far off lands with different languages, different customs and religion and all sorts of things that Minho would love to see, but has condemned his heart to believing that he never will get the chance to. 

 

“Lee Minho! How have you been boy?” A familiar merchant calls out to Minho. The Han Family trades with Hyojin, who takes a pick of the jelly Han carries from a far off country that Minho can’t pronounce the name of, and in exchange his family is given the biggest and best loaves of the bunch when they arrive back from their travels.

 

Minho couldn’t care less for the merchant himself, there’s another reason he is always so eager to make his way to the docks on days like today.

 

It doesn’t take long for Minho to find what, or rather _who_ he is looking for.

 

As Mr. Han walks up the plank to gather the Bakery’s goods for this voyage, he is passed by a young man Minho’s age, barely a year younger.

 

Dressed in fine leather boots and a long jacket, Young Han Jisung is a sight to behold. Minho thinks Jisung looks better and better each time he returns from a voyage. His skin always a lovely tan that contrasts beautifully with the collar of his white undershirts, even more so with the jacket he always wears. Its thick fabric is colored a vibrant shade of Indigo, showing off Jisung’s status almost immediately. That, paired with the confidence he holds in his stride and the ring with his family crest on his finger, it’s clear that Han Jisung comes from a well off family.

 

Minho can’t help but stare, and wonder if the prince himself looked as pretty as Han Jisung did now, with dark windswept hair, the salt spray from the waves paired with the breeze leaving it to fall in calm waves against Jisung’s nape. He tries not to think of how pretty Jisung will become when he loses the baby fat in his features, and grows taller and stronger, less dainty than he is now. When Jisung becomes a man.

 

Minho and Jisung have been friends for years, ever since Minho came to the village and first bumped into the boy during his first week working for Hyojin. The time doesn’t seem like much when Jisung is off sailing for months at a time though, and Minho seems to always be busy when he does make it back. Either way they both try their best to see each other, even if it’s simple things like this—Minho having to play delivery boy.

 

“The weather is beautiful today don’t you think?”

 

Minho’s is dragged out of his thoughts suddenly, and he realizes that Jisung is standing a mere metre or so away from him and talking to him. 

 

 _How did he get so close?_ Minho asks himself as he struggles for a moment to remember just what Jisung said in the first place, and then come up with his own response. It seems that every time he and Jisung manage to bump into each other, Minho is always at a loss for words. Every smile Jisung sends his way, every giggle, is enough for his tongue to betray him once again and tie itself into knots. 

 

“Yuh—Yes the clouds are very uh, fluffy today.” Minho nods, painfully aware that he has been staring, and probably won’t stop, not with the way Jisung is _paying attention_ to him right now.

 

“You’re here for the jam right? I figured it might be for you, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much. Just in case.”

 

“Yeah, Hyojin loves the stuff. Mostly because of how much he can sell it for though.”

 

Minho and Jisung wander off to the edge of the dock, where they sit and let their legs hang over the water. Beyond the surface Minho can see little minnows swimming through the seaweed, and shoves Jisung when the boy makes a bad pun about them.

 

“One day, I want to bring you with us. There’s so many places to go, and I have so many I want to show you.” Jisung speaks with unbound excitement, listing off foreign lands that he thinks Minho would enjoy, telling him of trees as thick as a house, of strange creatures you would never find around the village.

 

It’s then that Minho catches sight of something silver dangling from Jisung’s neck. It's a thin chain necklace, and hanging off of it Minho sees a small rock the color of honey. Jisung seems to notice his interest. 

 

“Are you looking at this?” Jisung chuckles, and Minho’s cheeks burn at the thought of being caught staring at Jisung’s chest, but he nods. He knows that lying is no use, as Jisung clearly saw him staring.

 

Minho watches curiously as Jisung unclasps the chain, and holds it up so Minho can see the stone that hangs from it. A deep honey color that looks almost gold in the sunlight shining through the rooftops that shelter them

 

“It’s called baltic amber, it’s filled with magic. A man we met during one of our travels gave it to me, he said it would keep me from growing weary as we sailed.”

 

Minho’s jaw hangs open as he takes a step closer, brushing his index finger against the rough edge of the shone and gasping when he sees a shape inside of it, a small flower.

 

“There’s a flower inside!” He points and looks at Jisung, locking eyes with the boy and realizing Jisung had been staring at him. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

 

“I told you, it’s magic.” Jisung giggles, and places the necklace in Minho’s palm gingerly. “You can take a closer look if you’d like to.”

 

Minho spends a minute oohing and ahhing at the necklace, genuinely amazed that such a thing could happen. Jisung tries his best to convince Minho that it really is magic. Perhaps if they had more time together he would have been able to succeed in his teasing and convince Minho, but alas their time was cut off with Jisung’s father returning.

 

“Han Jisung, you should be helping load the ballasts, stop wasting your time with _him_.” Jisung’s father grabs Jisung my the arm and drags him to his side, away from Minho.

 

A few years earlier, Minho may have taken offense to the offhand comment and the man's actions. Now he brushes it off, feeling only a hint of shame rising to color his cheeks as he takes the crate from Mr. Han and avoids Jisung’s gaze.

 

“Thank you, Sir.” Minho bows his head, adjusting his grip before he bows to Jisung as well, stealing a glance up at the boy and giving him a small encouraging smile. “I wish you yet another safe voyage.”

 

Minho rushes up the hill back towards the bakery as fast as he can without harming the jars he carries, not missing the disapproving look Hyojin gives him when he shows up flushed and panting through the back door.

 

“One day, Lee Minho. One day.” Hyojin sighs but takes the jelly from Minho mercifully, and begins to unload them into the cupboards.

 

It isn’t until later that Minho realizes he never returned Jisung’s necklace to him, when the stone sits heavy in his hand and he wonders what to do. Jisung and his father will be leaving the port before nightfall, and Minho won’t be allowed to go back down to the docks so soon after, especially since he took so long.

 

 _When Jisung gets back next season, I’ll return it._  Minho decides, putting the necklace around his own neck and tucking the stone under his shirt. The stone feels warm against his sternum, and the weight is odd, but not unpleasant.

 

He hopes Jisung will fare well enough without his charm.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the next month, Minho thinks often of Jisung’s return. Each time the amber catches his eye in the passing times where he can see his reflection, he sees the amber cased petals and unknowingly thinks of Jisung, wondering how he is faring out on open waters. Minho wonders if Jisung gets sea sick, if his cot is comfortable. Wonders what places Jisung will visit on this voyage, and if Minho ever crosses his mind as he explores far away places and meets new people.

 

Minho doubts it. After all, he is nothing to Jisung. Nothing more than a baker's boy who makes awful conversation when sent to do errands for others. And a thief at that, even if Minho didn’t mean to.

 

The silver chain to the necklace snaps one day while Minho is working, and he carries the stone around in his pocket like a treasure, patting it every few minutes to make sure it hasn't fallen out until he finds a replacement. He finds an old pair of boots in the cellar of the bakery, and uses the leather cord of the laces to create a new necklace to hang the stone on. If Hyojin ever notices it, he doesn’t say anything to Minho. Though Minho is sure he sees the man staring every so often.

 

 

 

 

When the news finally reaches the village a few weeks later, Minho is heartbroken.

 

It’s a normal day for him, in the back room like he always is in the late afternoon when he has to knead the bread that they will bake for tomorrow. He’s covered in sweat and flour, which creates a paste on some parts of his skin that leaves him just about ready to dive into the bay if it means he’ll feel clean once again.

 

“Minho!” Hyojin calls for him, a sinking feeling filling Minho’s chest as soon he looks up and sees the grim expression on Hyojin’s face. “We’re raising the price for the jams, and rationing it for the time being, understood?”

 

“Yes Sir, but may I ask why?” Minho asks after a moment of hesitance, wiping his hands off on his apron. “Han returns in a week or so, we should have enough to last us that long. I counted all the jars this morning and—”

 

“Han’s ship was lost at sea, my boy.” Hyojin interrupts him, and if Minho didn’t know better he would say he saw pity in Hyojin’s gaze. "It was destroyed."

 

The world seems to stop moving for Minho. The dough lays forgotten on the cutting board. For a moment all Minho can hear is a ringing in his ears, just like the time Hyojin slammed two pots together by his head when he caught Minho staring out the window instead of working, daydreaming.

 

“Wuh—What?”

 

“The wreckage was found last month, word only just arrived in the port today when another ship docked. No survivors I’m afraid.”

 

Minho can’t explain the hollow feeling that fills his chest, something cold and dark that creates a pit where his heart is, right where the ever-warm stone sits against his chest. It isn’t grief, he's familiar enough with that emotion to know this is something nameless. It’s an emotion that overwhelms like a dark tidal wave, before backing off to the dark recesses of his mind. It holds it’s place over his heart like a dark cloud hiding the sun.

 

“Do… Do they know what happened?” Minho asks in a soft voice, staring down at the ground.

 

“They say it was the powder magazine. Blew the entire boat sky high from what I heard, there was barely a ship left. Not uncommon in merchant ships like Han had. I’m sorry Minho, I know you and the Han boy were close.”

 

Hyojin leaves after that, giving his final word and leaving Minho to continue his work.

 

Minho knows that whatever he felt towards Jisung would have never worked out anyways. Days of admiring the boy when he came into the shop to buy a loaf for his mother, or a pastry on the days that the harvest was good and taxes were low enough that people could afford such a luxury for a short time. Minho knew in his heart that Jisung would eventually marry a girl of his stature, and it would be her, not Minho who sat at the fireplace waiting for a sea bound husband to return home from his voyage.

 

No, if anyone knew of Minho’s thoughts and emotions, present or past, Minho knew what the outcome would be. So he didn’t let himself grieve for Jisung, or the ideas that may have sprung up in the moments that Minho was able to work without thought.

 

Small useless things that were dreams of a damned man.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Of all the things Minho threw away that day however, the one thing he couldn’t manage to lose was the necklace.

 

He tried his best.

 

He tried to throw it into the pig pen where it would never see the light of day again, but he couldn’t bear to see it’s beauty tarnished like that. He tried to throw it into the river that ran rough through the canal, but he could only think of it being dragged away into dark unknown waters, like Jisung might have been.

 

So Minho kept the necklace, and eventually there comes a point where he can't remember the last time he had taken it off.

 

In three years the emptiness in Minho’s heart lessens, spreading throughout his body as he grows taller and stronger, battered down and turning into a dull throb that is barely noticeable as Minho suffers more hardships.

 

Four years after Jisung’s apparent death, a ship docks in their port, and it is one filled with foreigners.

 

There are three ships in total. Each one manned by men who look meaner than the butchers dog that used to chase Minho when he was younger. They don’t speak the language of the village, only one man makes an effort to, and even then his accent manages to butcher his pronunciation, and his grammar leaves much to be desired.

 

Their goal is simple whoever, and it becomes clear what they want when they shove their way into every home and building on Minho’s block, and shove every boy and man between fifteen and thirty into a crowded wagon and cart them away, Minho included.

 

Minho mourns his home of nearly a decade, watching Hyojin from where the man stands in the window of the shop as Minho is dragged away, too shocked to struggle. There's an unfamiliar emotion on the old man's face, as if he will really mourn Minho’s absence in any way. If anything the man will take slightly longer to find a new apprentice than others who have lost their own. Hyojin will get over Minho’s leaving, the only thing he’ll grieve is the time he spent training Minho for nothing.

 

 

 

“Name?”

 

“Lee Minho.”

 

“Welcome to _The_ _Waybound_ Lee.”

 

Minho’s childhood dreams and fantasies of sailing off over the cerulean blue horizon rush back to the forefront of his mind as he is ushered towards a large ship.

 

The crashing of the waves against the rocks of the cliffs far down on the shore is far too loud in his ears, the shrieking of seagulls making him wince as his head throbs. The harsh voices of men filling the air as he boards and looks around to see a whole new world, vision blurry with panic and salt water. He wonders if it's the wind, or tears. 

 

He doesn't get to figure that out, because all the sudden there's a heavyset man screaming in his face and shoving a mop in his arms. 

 

By the end of his first night Minho is nursing blisters on his hands from learning every knot known to man, his knees scraped up from hours of kneeling on the deck and scrubbing.

 

The sounds of waves against the hull of the ships lulls him to sleep in time with the swaying of his cot. He’s glad that he’s used to Hyojin snoring, seeing as many of the other men in the hull snore as well.

 

The only thing Minho can think to pray for as he closes his eyes, the smell of salt and damp wood filling his nose, is that he isn’t prone to seasickness.

 

 

 

It turns out that Minho is not prone to seasickness, but is in fact terrified of heights. Yet everyday he is forced to climb the mast and unknot the rope that holds the sails up, and again at night to roll them up. It both terrifies Minho to wits end, and is his favorite thing to do. He loves watching the end of the earth in blue—unable to tell how far it really goes—but as soon as he looks away from the skyline he finds himself almost frozen in terror at the sight of the deck so far below him. The only solid ground for miles, even though he’s told that jumping from this point into the water below would be like landing on stone.

 

Minho isn’t confident enough in his swimming abilities to even entertain the thought of jumping for a second. The idea of being scraped off the desk extremely unappealing.

 

The phobia doesn’t get better, and Minho knows it probably never will, but he’s beginning to learn ways to ignore it. Paying attention to the smell of salt in the air, and the wind in his hair, the sound of the breeze buffeting against the sails. It's a bittersweet freedom for Minho, like he's flying with a manacle keeping him from going too far.

 

 _The Waybound_ itself is a ship much like any other merchant ship on the main sea lane. It has two masts that protrude into the sky like towers with white wings, and it’s hull is filled almost to the brim with crates of goods from places Minho can't pronounce.

 

The captain is a barrel chested man who is particularly cruel to Minho, choosing him for tasks that are outside of his skill set and pushing him around whenever he is ‘too slow’ or ‘fucking it up’—two phrases that Minho has become familiar with as his time on the ship lengthens from months to a year and so on.

 

Minho doesn’t try to speak to the crew, and they don’t try to make conversation with him. They wouldn’t be able to understand each other even if they did. A few orders are barked to him throughout the day, and with trial and error Minho learns what words mean ‘ _clean, go away, dinner, wake up_ ’ and a few words that he’s pretty sure are insults directed towards him.

 

He’s become good at ignoring those ones.

 

As time passes, Minho begins to notice his legs growing stronger from using his thighs to hold himself up as he unfurls the sails, and his skin tanning under the heat of the sun. His hair grows out, slightly choppy from when he made an attempt to cut it a few months prior to now. He doesn’t get to see his reflection often, and after a while he stops caring about it altogether. He can tell however, from the way his bones jut out more than they used to that he has lost a good deal of weight.

 

Such is life though.

 

 

 

♚❈♚

_“Don’t panic,_

_When you first encounter the tides”_

 

 

 

The necklace is still with him after so long, tucked under his shirt where he knows it will be safe. Minho holds onto the amber when he sits up on the mast late at night, feeling its warmth seep through his fingers as he watches the sun fall past the horizon and the sky bleed out into a whole new sea of stars and constellations and the moon right above him.

 

Minho learns quickly to keep it hidden, as any of the crew members would be willing to snatch it up the second he isn't looking and sell it for a few pieces of gold. To them, it's a valuable item for them to barter. To Minho, it’s something that gives him comfort on nights like this, when his shift came to a close and he’s dead on his feet, waiting for the next bloke to come along and relieve him of his duties.

 

Besides, the last man who tried to look at what was on the end of the cord that hung around his neck nearly lost a finger, when Minho bit him.

 

After that, the crew gave him a much wider berth. The split lip and black eye he received from the captain was worth it. The necklace was the only thing Minho had left of home.

 

Ever since _The_ _Waybound_ moved from the main sea lane to the more secluded areas of the map, the Captain has been especially paranoid of pirates coming upon them during the night. Minho finds himself placed on watch, left merely an hour or so’s time of sleep as the crew members meant to switch out with him never show.

 

Lack of sleep leaves him unsteady on his feet during the day, and he finds new bruises all over his body every night. One time, he nearly breaks his neck slipping off the mast, a momentary lapse in his groggy mind all it takes to send him flailing and knock the air right out of his lungs when he hits the deck from twenty feet up.

 

Crew members stare, some send him worried looks that only last a second. Most just scoff and walk past as he gasps and struggles to sit and catch his breath again.

 

He's begun to take any chance that arises to sleep, even if it's for only a short while. 

 

Minho leans against the rail and looks down at the dark water below, shuddering and pulling his cloak tighter around him as he steps away.

 

He’s been fighting off sleep for what feels like forever, his eyes falling shut and steps becoming more unsteady as time goes on. He knows if he’s caught asleep when he’s supposed to be keeping watch he’ll be flogged, maybe even tossed overboard if he’s lucky, but at this point Minho wouldn’t mind pirates finding them.

 

A few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt anyone, he decides.

 

He settles down next to a few stacked crates, tugging the cord the stone hangs from and holding it in front of him. He stares down at the flower in the stone and finds himself thinking of Jisung for the first time in years it seems. The thought of the smiling boy bringing Minho memories of sore muscles and the scent of fresh bread, of a breeze much sweeter than the bitterness he is surrounded by now.

 

Minho isn’t sure where his place is, feeling caught in the middle of then and now as his head hangs and eyes droop shut.

 

The village had never been a home to him, and this place was too unfamiliar and unforgiving for him to ever really settle. Call him selfish, but Minho _wants_. He wants to leave this damned naval ship full of harsh words and even harsher fists. He wants to be somewhere that he chooses to be, and he wants to be with people he can understand. He doesn’t want to get used to a life like this, the one he has been forced into.

 

Not to mention the name of the ship fucking sucks. Whoever thought _The_ _Waybound_ was at any point original or interesting was sorely wrong.

 

Sleep drags him down like a stone in water. He's met with familiar images of Jisung, showing him maps and different parts of the boat. Gushing about nights and mornings at sea, telling Minho of all the places he’d been whenever they had the chance to talk to one another.

 

For a moment, everything is still, and Minho can almost forget. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An explosion startles Minho awake, and he's left in a state of shock for a moment while his brain catches up, a high pitched ringing in his ear and his shoulder feeling as though its on fire from whatever just tore through the rail right beside him. A chunk of the mast on the ship in front of him missing and causing it to make a dangerous creaking sound as the wind buffets against the single unfurled sail.

 

Fear causes Minho’s throat to close up as he watches his crew members run around the deck hollering and screaming at each other. Gunshots fill the air, but everything sounds far away to Minho, who can’t seem to get up from where he cowers and nurses his injured shoulder. The fabric of his shirt has torn, and his right bicep and shoulder are throbbing. He can’t tell how bad it is, but he can feel a slow trickle of blood as it seeps into his clothes and drips down his arm.

 

From the dark ship sailing beside _The Waybound_ , Minho can see men swinging across open air and landing on _The Waybound’s_ deck with harsh thumps as their boots hit the ground. One raises his hand, and the sky is suddenly filled with a bright red light as a gun goes off. The deck lit up by an eerie glow from what seems to be a flare of sorts.

 

Minho catches sight of one of the man's faces. The red light reflects off the sword he holds and casts a shadow where a scar cuts across his face, dark eyes glinting as he looks over the ship. 

 

 

 _Pirates._ Minho’s mind supplies unhelpfully, and he is suddenly reminded of all the stories the men on the docks would tell, of murderers and pillagers, ships left to burn and sink with the crew still on board, damned to hell. The pretty ones kept to work on the ship. 

 

Minho hasn't seen his reflection in ages, he hopes to God that whatever the village girls saw in him that made them giggle was gone. A silent whimper of fear clawing its way up his throat at the thought of being dragged onto the dark ship. 

 

Hiding behind the crates he had been sleeping against moments earlier his hearing slowly returns, though the high pitched ringing continues. The pounding of his heart is clear over everything else. 

 

Around the ship, the sky rumbles and the clouds thicken, and Minho feels a few drops of rain hit his head and slide down into the collar of his shirt.

 

 _How_ _cliche_. 

 

When Minho finally catches his breath, he can see that most of the crew has been rounded up and are kneeling in front of a man that can’t be much older than Minho himself. He speaks with a thick unfamiliar accent, voice cold as he yells at the crew. Minho feels himself shudder as the sky rumbles again, closer this time, and the moon breaks through the clouds that cover the sky like a blanket. It illuminates the deck in a pale light, which had fallen into darkness when the red flare burnt out.

 

A sharp burst of pain catches him off guard and Minho takes a sharp breathe when he grabs his arm on instinct. Looking down, he can barely see the ripped fabric through the darkness, but with a sickening feeling growing in his stomach—Minho realizes that he can smell something metallic and sharp filling the air. 

 

Minho drags his hand away and shudders when he sees something wet and dark covering his palm. 

 

Blood. And a lot of it.  

 

 

 

 

“What have we got here?”

 

Minho yelps as someone shoves him forwards. The pain in his shoulder flares up again as he is dragged out of his hiding place and out in front of his crew, stumbling over the deck and falling to his knees like the rest of them.

 

The man with the scar. 

 

Minho's hands tremble, so he takes a handful of the fabric from his trousers in his fists and holds them tightly until they stop shaking. He stares at the space between his knees, burning the grain of the wood into his memory, wondering if it’s the last thing he’ll ever see. 

 

He's terrified. 

 

 

 

 

There’s more yelling, but Minho still can’t understand most of what is happening, only that his own captain is not happy, and every insult he throws at the pirate captain is making the situation no better.

 

“Hey!” Minho gasps when there is suddenly a pressure around his neck and then a snap—the cord of his necklace being torn away from him, wrenching his head to the side as a pirate boy with cherry red hair snatches it right off him.

 

The sight of the stone dangling in the air so far away from him fills Minho with unease. It's been forever since he last took it off, now it's hanging in front of him, too far away for his comfort. 

 

He can’t hear what Cherry Boy and his Captain are saying, not as they angle themselves away from Minho and converse in a way that Minho probably won't be able to understand even if he wanted to.

 

“Please, it’s precious to me.” Minho pleads in a soft voice even though he knows they can't hear him. His knuckles turn white as he watches them, having half a mind to snatch it back. He doesn’t dare make a move however, still unsure of what these men want, or where the others have gone.

 

They're probably searching for anything of value on the ship they can take for themselves.  Minho would gladly let their captain have it all, anything he wanted, just not what he had in his hands right now.

 

Minho just has one goal, _don't_ end up on that ship. 

 

“You.” Minho’s head snaps up and he freezes when he makes eye contact with the other ships captain.

 

“ _What’s your name?"_

 

“ _That rat doesn’t speak—_ ” Minho flinches as _The Waybounds_ captain is cuffed over the head by the young man who found him hiding, eyes sharp and silent as he surveys the crew and keeps them in check.

 

Minho isn't surprised he missed him when he snuck up on him, seeing as the pirate is cloaked in all black. The scar that cuts from the bridge of his nose down his right cheek looks old, but the shadow it casts across his face in the moonlight sends a shiver down Minho's spine. 

 

 

 

The captain walks over to Minho, and each step makes Minho shudder with every point of contact. His eyes flicker between the deck and up at the pirate, watching as the man glares at _The Waybound's_ captain, then kneels in front of Minho.

 

“I don’t think he’s very smart, do you?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sound of his own language fills Minho with a strange feeling of melancholy, and he wonders just how _long_ it had been since he actually heard someone and was able to understand them.

 

Minho looks up at the captain with wide eyes and shakes his head. "Nuh—Not really, Sir.”

 

The Captain says nothing else to him after that, but his eyes linger on Minho for a second longer than needed before he goes back to yelling at the crew. Minho’s necklace in his hand, shimmering in the moonlight. 

 

So close, but still too far. 

 

 

 

 

Minho and the rest of the crew watch as the same two men take what they want, the one in black moving soundlessly as he tosses crates and sacks of goods to their own ship.

 

Cherry Boy seems to find pleasure in antagonizing the crew each time he takes something particularly valuable. If Minho weren’t so apprehensive about the whole situation, he might find the boy’s teasing funny. Even so, it fills him with a sense of spiteful pride to see his Captains face grow more and more purple in anger, veins bulging with every word that rolls off of Cherry Boy's tongue. 

 

 

 

 

 

Minho's head hangs low as rain drips from his hair, and he can feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness as his shoulder continues to throb, almost two weeks without sleeping catching up to him as he awaits his fate. 

 

The harsh thump of boots on the deck startles him out of a particularly long lapse, and Minho looks up to see a new pirate standing with the Captain a few feet away from him. Even though Minho can only see his back, there's something vaguely familiar about him.

 

The burst of rain clouds have mostly passed for a more sparse patch, and the deck is bathed in the light from the moon. It bleaches the color from almost everything in sight, so much that the already faded color of the man's jacket makes it look black. After a few moments however, Minho recognizes the color as a once-vibrant indigo.

 

 _No_.

 

Minho watches with wide eyes, his mouth suddenly devoid of moisture as he maps out the pirates shoulders, the way he holds himself, the silver ring on his finger with a faded family crest that Minho hasn’t seen in years.

 

He sees the Captain hold up the necklace, _his_ _necklace_ , and watches as the new pirates shoulders tense at the sight of it.

 

“ _Where did you find that?_ ”

 

The voice is achingly familiar, and brings Minho back to sunny days on the docks, long before all this. Though it has dropped a few octaves since the last time Minho heard it, he knows who it belongs to immediately. 

 

The Captain points in his direction, and Minho finally sees Him.

  

Jisung’s hair is longer than it used to be, brushing against the collar of his faded jacket—the same jacket from all those years ago—and adorned with thin braids and beads threaded through it. All traces of childhood have deserted Jisung’s features, except his round cheeks and his eyes, which still have a glint in them. A glint that Minho always thought must be a thirst for adventure, the intrinsic need to explore, something that Jisung no doubt had.

 

And—Holy fuck, Jisung has a lip piercing.

 

“ _Minho_..?” Jisung’s voice carries across the deck right to him, and Minho knows his mouth is hanging open as he stares at Jisung.

 

It’s like seeing a ghost, seeing Jisung in the flesh after so long of thinking of him as nothing more than dead. It leaves Minho’s head spinning dangerously. All those days without sleep finally catching up to him

 

A burst of pain in his head, and the sound of someone running across is all he knows before everything goes dark.

 

 

 

♚❈♚

_“We’ll return,_

_When we drift apart”_

 

 

 

When Minho drifts back into consciousness, his mouth is filled with an awful taste, and his body feels like he jumped off of the mast and hit the ground too hard. The pain in his shoulder has ebbed into a dull throb, and can hear the gentle rush of waves against the side of the boat as he groans and squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

 

It's so bright all of the sudden. 

 

He sits up, and rolls his shoulder with some effort. The tightness of the movement is explained when he opens his eyes to see his shoulder and chest wrapped up in bandages under a thin white shirt. His collar has been left loose, so the fabric doesn’t constrict his movements any more than they already are. 

 

Minho wraps the shirt tighter around him, covering exposed skin as he blinks sleep out of his eyes. 

 

“You’re awake!” Someone exclaims, and Minho looks over to see a young man with shaggy reddish blonde hair standing in the corner of the room, dressed in a pale blue shirt and vest. He holds a roll of bandages in his hands, and Minho realizes he must have just changed the ones on his shoulder.

 

“Who are you? Where am I?” Minho asks, his voice rough and labored as he glances around the room. The only light comes from a large window behind the bed he lies in, and from the furniture and maps that make up the decor, it seems that he’s in the Captains cabin of a ship.

 

Or at least Minho assumes so.

 

“Hey, _hey_ ,” The man speaks with an accent, patting his belt to show that he has no weapons and holding his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “Try not to move too much, you’ll probably still be a bit dizzy from hitting your head. My name is Felix, I’m your on board doctor… Sort of.”

 

True to the man, Felix’s, word, Minho can’t seem to get his bearings right. He raises his hand to his head and inhales sharply when his fingers brush against a bump on the side of his head. The action of standing seems impossible as dark spots swim in front of his vision when he even makes an attempt to get to his feet.

 

As soon as Felix sees Minho trying to stand he rushes over and holds him down, careful to mind Minho’s injured shoulder as he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

 

“It’ll help your head if you stay down. You were seriously sleep deprived when Hannie and Chan brought you on board. We were amazed that you didn’t pass out sooner, considering your condition.” Felix’s voice is soothing, and he speaks in a low voice, which Minho appreciates. His head isn’t pounding like it had been when he first woke up, but it’s still sensitive to some of the louder noises.

 

“Hannie? You mean—” Minho’s heart rate jumps when he remembers. Jisung is here. Jisung is _on this boat_. Jisung recognized him, and he was _here._

 

“Jisung, yeah.” Felix nods, turning away from Minho for a moment and picking something up from a desk on the other side of the room. “It surprised all of us when Jisung brought you on board. He told us he didn’t have any family left.”

 

“I’m not really family.” Minho says, watching Felix turn around with a steaming mug in hand.

 

“Here’s some ginger tea, it should help with the headache and any nausea.”

 

Minho takes the misshapen mug from Felix carefully, the warmth making him realize how cold the tips of his fingers are.

 

The smell of the spices seems to wake him up more, and his shoulders lose some of their tension when the flavor bursts onto his tongue. Such spices were a luxury, even before his time at sea, the taste takes him by surprise. 

 

“I was only just able to convince Jisung to go and eat something, he’s been by your side since we brought you down here.” Felix grabs an extra pillow from the large chair in the back of the room and taps Minho’s shoulder, prompting him to sit up more so he can put it behind him.

 

“He was here?” Minho asks, and from the small smile Felix sends him, he knows that he sounds just as excited as he feels at the prospect of seeing Jisung again—and hopefully not fainting this time.

 

“For three days, he was sitting right there.” Felix motions to a wooden chair that is pushed off to the side of the bed. “We couldn’t get him to tell us anything about you, I think he just didn’t know what to say. I’m assuming it’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.”

 

“Something like that.” Minho nods, setting down the mug on the barrel-turned-end-table beside him. “Do you think you could help me outside? I’ve never been good with being below deck.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a few more minutes of pleading from Minho to convince Felix to let him stand up, and even then Felix insists on supporting Minho as he walks. Minho won’t admit that he’s grateful for it, but as soon as he stands up he can’t see for a few seconds, the whole world spinning. If his grip on Felix's shoulder hurts the boy, Felix says nothing about it. 

 

The floorboards creak under his feet as Felix helps him out of the room and into a dimly lit hallway. To his left Minho can see a few more doors past Felix’s head, and can hear the clang of pots from an open archway that must lead to the galley. He can hear the faint melody of someone singing from the room, a song unfamiliar to Minho.

 

“Right up here.” Felix brings Minho’s attention back to the task at hand and helps him towards a short flight of stairs, maybe six or seven. Even so it takes what seems like forever for Minho to climb them. Thankfully Felix seems to be patient, and helps Minho, making him take his time and go his own pace.

 

Minho wonders as he goes, what makes him so trusting of Felix. Even of Jisung. He hasn’t seen Jisung in six years, he could be a completely different person than Minho has been remembering all these years, not to mention that Jisung is a pirate. A pirate that looted the ship Minho was on, and did who knows what to his crew. Not that Minho cares about the crew that muc. They could burn in hell for all he cares.

 

“Okay now, let’s just take a few minutes to breathe.” Felix says when they finally reach the top, leading Minho to the rail of the ship so he can settle down.

 

Being out of the dark cabin and into fresh air helps clear Minho’s head, nearly blinded by the sun reflecting off the cerulean blue expanse that surrounds the ship. The salt in the wind is a familiar taste as he licks his lips, and for the first time in a while he doesn’t resent it. The air doesn’t stink of rotting fish and the pungent stench of too many spices packed together like it did on The Waybound. If anything it reminds Minho of the docks in the village.

 

“Feeling any better?” Felix asks him. “Are your bandages okay?”

 

“Much better, and yeah I think they’re fine.” Minho nods, pushing the collar of his shirt aside to check them. His shoulder still hurts, but there’s no sign of bleeding. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

 

“I know Woojin is in the kitchen with Jisung. I saw him when I sent Jisung to get something to eat. Changbin is probably taking a nap somewhere, he usually acts as our medic but apparently he's intimidating to new people.” Felix hums thoughtfully. "Personally I don't see it—G’day captain.”

 

Minho turns and finds his breath caught in his throat when he makes eye contact with the captain emerging from the stairs, body tensing automatically at the sight of him.

 

“Morning Felix, good to see you awake—Minho right?” The captain's voice sounds different now that he isn’t yelling, and Minho recognizes the same accent as Felix’s when he speaks.

 

“Yeah, uh, how do you know that?”

 

“Jisung mentioned your name when we brought you on board. I’m Chan by the way.” Chan smiles, and Minho can see one dimple when he does. It’s confusing to say the least, seeing Chan looking so normal and at ease when the last time Minho saw him he was yelling at his old crew.

 

“I hope you didn’t mind us taking you off that ship,” Chan’s expression darkens and his smile vanishes. “They didn’t seem like they were treating you very well.”

 

Minho shakes his head, unable to speak. He wants to ask what happened to the crew for a moment, but then he realizes he doesn’t care. There’s no reason for him to care. From the second he woke up they, in his mind, were his _old crew_. They were in the past, he could forget about them now.

 

“ _Felix!_ ”

 

Minho, Felix and Chan all jump as someone yells.

 

Felix looks at Minho, and jogs over to the staircase. Minho struggles to lift himself up, using his good arm and the rail for support as he gets to his feet. Chan holds a hand out to spot him, which he appreciates.

 

“Felix where the fuck is he?” The voice sounds desperate, and Minho looks up to see Felix and—  

 

“Jisung.” Minho breathes out, the other boy’s head snapping over to look at him.

 

The panic bleeds out of his eyes, and Minho watches the tension in Jisung’s shoulders disappear when he sees him.

 

In six years, Jisung has grown up. He’s more broad than he was when Minho last saw him, and about a foot taller—still shorter than Minho though. His skin is the color of bronze from days in the sun, and his hair is longer, most of it pulled back into a ponytail, while the rest that is too short hangs down on the nape of his neck. Minho can see thin braids there, decorated with small colored beads. He isn’t wearing his jacket now, and under his thin shirt Minho can see the muscle of his arms and in his legs where his trousers fit him.

 

Jisung’s eyes are the same though, still wide and bright and full of adventure. The same brown that Minho had fallen in love with years ago. They remind him of chocolate Jisung brought him once, when he was still an apprentice and Jisung still held the Han name. A silver ring wraps around his lower lip, which Minho remembers from right before he must have fainted.

 

 _That’s really hot._ Minho thinks, and before he knows what’s happened, Jisung has him in his arms and is squeezing him like he’s afraid Minho will jump overboard as soon as he lets go.

 

“God, I’ve missed you.” Jisung whispers, one hand clutching the fabric of Minho’s shirt, the other carded through the hair at the base of Minho’s neck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the first time in five years, Minho allows himself to break. He lets out an ugly sob, burying his face in the crook of Jisung’s neck.

 

It hurts his shoulder, but he wraps his arms around Jisung and holds him as tight as he can. 'Cause for the first time in years, Minho feels _safe_ , feels himself leaning into Jisung because he can feel all of that fear that had taken root inside of him shrinking away with every gentle stroke of Jisung's fingers through his hair. 

 

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, Minho crying as Jisung soothes him, rubbing his back and talking to him in a low voice. Words that Minho doesn’t really hear, but appreciates.

 

It’s nice to hear Jisung again, even when it’s different to what he remembers it as.

 

When Minho gathers himself together, and dries his tears, he’s introduced to the rest of the crew. He stays close to Jisung as he leads Minho around the ship, putting names to familiar faces and meeting new ones.

 

Chan, as he had introduced himself before, is the captain. Jisung tells Minho that when his father’s ship did in fact explode, it was Chan and Changbin who found him drifting, nearly dead. He helped Jisung, and offered him a place in his and Changbin’s small family. Which Jisung took.

 

Changbin is Chan’s second in command, and is the man Minho saw hit his old captain when they raided _The Waybound_. Much like Chan, Changbin had somewhat scared Minho at first, but after a few minutes watching him and Jisung talk, Changbin doesn’t seem so intimidating. He and Chan had ended up on a boat much like Minho had been on. Taken from their homes against their will and forced to work for their respective Captains. Until they snuck off one night and stole an empty ship docked beside theirs.

 

Jisung tells him that the full story is much more fun and entertaining, and promises to have Chan tell him the whole story sometime.

 

Cherry Boy is given a name finally, _Seungmin_. He’s their sailmaster, which explains why he’s up sitting on the mast when Jisung and Minho bump into him.

 

The sight of Seungmin so far up reminds Minho of when he was forced to do the same, and brings back the stupid phobia of his. Thankfully Seungmin is good as his job, which means Minho will probably never have to climb another mast in his life, and the shudder that runs down his spine will be his last. 

 

Woojin is kind, and has a certain aura surrounding him that Minho can’t really put a name to, but he feels comfortable around the man immediately.

 

Woojin feeds both of them, giving them a loaf of bread to share and each a bowl of warm soup. Minho offers to help out in the kitchen if he can, and Woojin looks skeptical until Jisung confirms Minho’s time as an apprentice to a baker. The man seems relieved at the prospect of having some help around the galley.

 

“Of course you know Felix, he’s technically just a crew member but acts as our on board surgeon when we happen to need one, that leaves us with—”

 

A high pitched scream cuts Jisung off, and Minho jumps when a young boy runs up from below deck, followed by Seungmin and another boy that Minho hasn’t met yet.

 

“Well, I guess if you’re going to meet them you might as well meet them in their natural state.” Jisung sighs, sending Minho an apologetic look. “That’s Jeongin, he can scream really loud. You can usually find him with Seungmin, or Hyunjin. They like to tease him.”

 

“Don’t kiss me!” Jeongin glares at Seungmin, who is sharing a high five with Hyunjin. The youngest huffs and reaches up to retie and fix the red strip of cloth he has wrapped around his head, like a silken crown.

 

“Guys, this is Minho.” Jisung introduces him, and Minho waves.

 

“Does this mean I’m not the new kid anymore?” Hyunjin asks, looking excited as he continues to try and grab at Jeongin.

 

“Yep.” Jisung nods and Hyunjin cheers. Minho flinches at the sound, but does well at hiding it.

 

The three boys don’t pay much more attention to Minho and Jisung after that, as Jeongin slips away from Hyunjin and sprints back below deck.

 

“Are they always like that?”

 

“Yeah... Pretty much.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time they’ve met everyone, the sky is growing dark.

 

Minho isn’t sure what to do now, but doesn’t say anything to Jisung as he leads Minho below deck. It’s clear that Jisung knows the ship like the back of his hand, having lived on it for six years. So he makes his way through the dimly lit halls with ease, until they end up at the Captains cabin again.

 

“What are we doing here?” Minho finally asks, watching confused from the doorway as Jisung gathers a blanket and quilt from the bed and brings it over to Minho.

 

“We’re sleeping. Chan takes first watch, and so on. You won’t have to though, everyone agrees that you need sleep.”

 

“But _why_ are we here?”

 

Jisung looks confused as well, but only for a moment before he seems to understand.

 

“Oh, yeah. Since we have such a small crew, we all just sleep in here. Chan and Woojin take the bed, Seungmin and Hyunjin switch between bunking with Jeongin and taking the hammock over there. Changbin sleeps in the big reading chair in the corner, and Felix—Well he kind of just goes wherever he feels like for the night.”

 

It’s hard for Minho to wrap his head around for a moment, after being so used to things one way.

 

True to Jisung’s word though, each member of the crew make their way down and take their boots off.

 

Minho watches in silent fascination as they all talk and laugh and joke as they prepare to sleep, taking off earrings and belts, and swords. Though he notices they all keep their guns close by.

 

Chan walks around helping everyone into their places, and Minho remembers what Jisung said about Chan taking the first watch of the night. He watches the captain carefully remove the cloth around Jeongin’s head, who is so tired he’s swaying on his feet.

 

It leaves his hair sticking up in odd directions, and Minho hides the smile the sight brings.

 

Woojin climbs into the bed that is built into the left wall, taking up the left side and picking up a book from the nightstand beside him. Hyunjin struggles his way into a hammock strung up on the right side of the room, laying on his stomach with his hand hanging down, right above where Jeongin has been dragged down with Seungmin.

 

The youngest looks dejected, but too exhausted to scold Seungmin as he struggles to pull a quilt over the two of them.

 

Changbin comes in the latest, small enough to fit his whole body onto the huge padded reading chair Jisung pointed out earlier.

 

 

 

Felix asks about Minho’s bandages when he comes down, to which Minho tells the boy they’ve held up well throughout the day. Minho watches as Felix walks over to Changbin, and as if he does it every night, slides a dagger out from where it lay sheathed on Changbin’s belt. There’s a small clank of metal on metal as Felix sets the dagger down with the others before flopping down onto the bed at Woojin’s feet, and promptly falling asleep on his stomach. His soft snoring filling the room.

 

It isn’t until all the crew is tucked in—not literally, but something tells Minho that Chan would do so if asked—that Chan pulls on his jacket and goes up to the deck to keep watch and make sure the ship doesn’t veer off their path during the night.

 

 

 

 

 

Jisung has set Minho up in a small cot—which is really just a mattress on the ground, but Minho doesn’t mind—with a blanket and a pillow. Something Minho thought he would never see again.

 

“Are you comfy? Do you need another pillow? Another blanket?”

 

Jisung had fussed over him before the rest of the crew came down, and only seemed to stop worrying when Minho took his hands and assured him he was fine. It takes Jisung a long time to finally step away from Minho, and go to his own bed. Which happens to be a window seat on the back wall of the room.

 

But Minho wasn’t fine.

 

Okay so yes he was _fine,_  he just couldn’t sleep. He was comfortable, and was exhausted, but no matter how he lay or how long he willed himself to sleep, he couldn’t. He watches Jisung for a while, feigning sleep when the boy looks at him, until Jisung finally goes under himself, curled up on the cushion of the window with the ocean and the night sky behind him.

 

Sneaking out of the cabin is easy enough with Felix snoring and Hyunjin mumbling in his sleep every so often. Minho freezes once when Jeongin huffs and begins to move, but upon closer inspection he sees that Jeongin is simply burrowing deeper into the blankets that surround him and Seungmin.

 

 

 

The dark halls get Minho turned around once or twice, not that he would have noticed if he hadn’t passed the door of the cabin twice.

 

Eventually he finds the stairs, and slowly makes his way up, having grown more steady on his feet as they day went on. A good meal and however long he had slept had done his body well, but not done well enough for him to be one-hundred-percent just yet.

 

 

 

The breeze brings a salty tang to Minho’s tongue when he reaches the top of the stairs and takes a deep breath.

 

“Can’t sleep?”

 

Minho jumps, turning to see Chan sitting at the edge of the upper deck, looking down at Minho with a knowing smile.

 

“Something like that.” Minho nods, and takes Chan’s hand when he offers it, using a crate pushed up against the wall to climb up beside the captain. The movement leaves him a bit out of breath, and his shoulder aches for a moment, but other than that he is able to settle down beside Chan comfortably.

 

They sit beside each other for a while in silence, but it’s not an awkward one. Chan gives Minho the same feeling a protective figure might. Someone willing to listen and let you take your time in finding the right words—something Minho desperately needs right now.h

 

“I’m scared.” Minho finally speaks, Chan only hums in response. “You all have you places here, you’re like—like a family. How am I supposed to fit into that?”

 

“You know every one of the crew, each one of them, ended up here with me on their first night? Even Changbin, who I had known for years before we even set sail.” Chan doesn’t look at Minho, but stares out at the expanse of dark water in front of them. The sails rustle overhead where they had been rolled up by Seungmin before he went in for the night.

 

“Whoever you were before, Minho, that doesn’t have to matter here. It can, but it doesn’t need to. You can build upon yourself, or you can create someone new. Here, on this ship, as soon as you came on board you became a part of our family. You can stay for as long as you want, or you can step off the next time we reach a port. I’m your captain now, and that means I’ll protect you. Everything I do it for the good of our team, and our family.”

 

Minho stares down at his hands, which lay palm up in his lap. He opens and closes them a few times, mulling over what Chan had said.

 

He could stay, and have a family again.

 

Coming from anyone else Minho wouldn’t have believed them, but he can hear it in Chan’s voice that he means what he says. And how stupid would Minho have to be to pass something like that up?

 

“I think… I want to stay.”

 

“Welcome to the family Minho. Oh, and I think this is yours.” Chan pulls a length of cord out from his shirt, and removes the necklace—Minho’s necklace from around his neck.

 

Minho looks up from the golden stone in awe, and sees Chan smiling at him, strong hand on his shoulder, careful not to hurt him. Minho smiles back after a moment, taking the necklace from Chan and returning it around his own neck. The familiar weight filling up the empty feeling in his chest he hadn’t even realized was there until it was gone. He takes one last deep breath before climbing down from the upper deck. He sends Chan one last thankful look before descending the stairs and returning to the cabin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Minho..?”

 

Minho freezes, in the middle of slipping his boots off when he hears Jisung call out to him. He turns to see Jisung looking at him curiously, eyes heavy with sleep as he rubs them. His hair hangs in his face and he’s acquired a cowlick from where his head rest on his pillow, but he doesn’t do anything to fix it.

 

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, and Minho nods, trying to unlace his boots as quiet as he can so he doesn’t wake anyone else up.

 

“Just having a bit of trouble sleeping.”

 

Jisung doesn’t say anything for awhile, and Minho isn’t sure if he should try and lie down or wait for Jisung to finally speak.

 

“Do you… Want to sleep over here?” Jisung places his hand beside him.

 

Jisung sleeps on the bay window that sits on the back wall of the cabin. Nearly hidden away by a sheer curtain, the small nook consists of three pillows and two quilts, as the draft is worse there. Not that Jisung seems to mind.

 

“You won’t mind?” Minho asks, hesitant to accept the offer. When Jisung nods, and shifts to the side so Minho will have enough room, Minho gathers up the pillow and quilt Jisung gave him and carries them across the room.

 

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but the bay window is big enough for the two of them if they squish together the tiniest bit. Jisung is like a beacon of heat beside him, and as long as Jisung doesn’t seem to mind, Minho pulls him closer to trap in that heat. Jisung pulls the quilt over his knees and makes sure it’s covering Minho as well before settling down.

 

“You okay?” He asks, voice a soft whisper that Minho can just barely hear over the sound of his own heart and the muted rush of waves lapping at the sides of the boat outside the window.

 

“Mhm, perfect.”

 

The weight of Jisung leaning on him has a comforting effect, and Minho feels his muscles begin to relax as soon as he closes his eyes, allowing the sound of the ocean and Jisung’s breath fanning out over his collarbone to lull him to sleep.

 

 

 

♚❈♚

_“As long as I stay with my heart,_

_I can rely on a broken compass”_

 

 

 

It’s hard to notice at first, but after a month or two on board _The Ninth—_ as Minho had learned the boat was named—Minho begins to put on weight, and for the first time in a while he starts to feel healthy again.

 

He shoots up two more inches, much to the dismay of Jisung, and the bones that jut out slowly disappear as he adds more fat to his body.

 

Minho distinctly remembers the day he runs up to Jisung on deck with his shirt off, just to show his friend that you can no longer see the outline of his ribs. He doesn’t understand why Jisung blushes furiously and yells at him to put a shirt on, figuring Jisung would be happy about it.

 

When he brings it up to Chan and Woojin, they both share a look and refuse to say anything about it to Minho, much to his dismay.

 

 

 

It takes him awhile to become comfortable on The Ninth, even more so to get used to the rest of the crew around him. A year of being silent and invisible left him lacking when it came to social skills, but with help from Jisung and the rest Minho learns to stop flinching when someone comes up behind him suddenly, and gets used to being _asked_ to do things rather than being _told._

 

Woojin eventually gives up his position as cook when he is confident enough that Minho won’t blow them all up trying to make something weird.Minho figures there’s a story somewhere in that, but he hasn’t gotten to asking Woojin about it just yet.

 

True to Chan’s word, Minho becomes a part of the family easily, to the point where it’s as if they’ve been together since the beginning of time, rather than just a few months.

 

Minho doesn’t tease Jeongin as much as Hyunjin and Seungmin do, but he definitely is guilty of pinching the youngests cheek once every so often, and being somewhat overprotective. Jeongin pretends to hate it, but Minho can see there’s a part of Jeongin that’s glad there’s someone to care for him. Freshly seventeen, Jeongin is still at such a young age, Jeongin deserves the security they give him. Not to mention if he’s ever cold, he always has eight people willing to warm him up.

 

Minho and Jisung don’t fall back into place with each other as easily as Minho expected. They’ve both grown far too much to ever walk in the shoes they once did ever again, but Minho enjoys every second it takes to relearn Jisung’s quirks and personality quips. Even though they have to get to know each other just like Minho has to get to know everyone else on board, they still end up close.

 

Jisung teaches him how to wield a sword, leaving new bruises on Minho as they practice with long wooden spoons from the galley, the dark marks blooming on Minho’s skin everywhere Jisung whacks him, until Minho gets good enough to deflect Jisung’s attacks.

 

He goes to bed every night sore before then, glaring at Changbin when he catches him laughing. And whenever Jisung decides to make fun of him for it, Minho will tug on his favorite of Jisung’s braids—one hidden under a tuft of hair on the nap of his neck, with a single sky blue bead on it—in retaliation.

 

Minho no longer has trouble sleeping once he permanently moves to the bay window with Jisung, and has even convinced Chan and Felix—after about a week of harassing them—that he is well enough to start taking a shift of watch.

 

Felix checks over Minho’s shoulder once it’s healed completely, deeming it in perfect health, even though the blast did leave a scar where he was burned. Hyunjin and Felix assure him that it’s a cool scar though, and both of them spend an entire afternoon thinking of stories for Minho to use to explain how he got it.

 

Chan takes longer to convince though. He’s a good captain, and tries to tell Minho that he doesn’t mind the extra hour, but Minho has grown close enough to Chan to see the small things, like how he sometimes falls asleep at breakfast, but wakes up too soon for anyone but Woojin and Minho to notice. So Minho insists on taking the shift.

 

One night, when coming back from his shift, Minho is just beginning to take off his boots so he can sleep, and wake up Jisung to let him know it’s his turn when he hears a noise of distress.

 

At first he thinks nothing of it, as Hyunjin is prone to talking in his sleep, and is only a few feet away. But as it persists, and turns into a whimper of fear, Minho looks up across the room at the window seat, where he can see Jisung tossing and turning, hands clenched into fists on the edges of the quilt he has wrapped around him.

 

“Jisung. Jisungie.” Minho whispers as he walks over, placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder and shaking him gently. A small gasp and the fit ends, and Minho watches as Jisung opens his eyes, hands trembling as he releases his hold on the quilt. He blinks up at Minho, eyes foggy for a moment as he wakes up.

 

“Minho?”

 

Minho nods, and without a word brings Jisung his boots and helps him put them on. It worries him when he sees how badly Jisung’s hands are shaking, but Jisung insists on lacing them himself.

 

When the two of them get to the deck, Minho pulls Jisung into a tight hug, mumbling words of comfort under his breath and stroking the boys hair gently until Jisung stops shaking.  

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minho asks after a while, looking over to where Jisung sits beside him on the upper deck. Jisung is staring down at the space between his feet, but he doesn’t seem to be staring at anything in particular.

 

“It was just a nightmare. I haven’t had them in a while, but occasionally they come back. Usually I’m able to keep anyone from noticing.” Jisung sighs, and runs his hand over his face. “When it was just me Chan and Changbin, I’d wake them up and they’d help me. I don’t think the two of them know that they came back though.”

 

“What are they about?” Minho asks hesitantly, placing his hand on Jisung’s back and rubbing small circles into his muscles to relax him. “If you want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

 

“The night my father’s ship crashed, there was an explosion.” Jisung’s voice becomes small, and something tells Minho that Jisung is trying not to cry. “I don’t know what caused it, I just remember fire, and my father yelling at me. Then—Then I don’t know. There was another explosion I think.”

 

Jisung shifts and brushes his hair back, so Minho can see a scar that starts at his temple and curves back around behind his ear, creating a fissure in Jisung’s hair. It’s something Minho would have never noticed if Jisung hadn’t pointed it out, but now he can see the point where the scar starts at Jisung’s hairline. When Jisung moves his hand again, his hair falls in front of the scar, hiding it again.

 

“Changbin and Chan found me unconscious, I don’t remember a lot about the first week with them. I had lost a lot of blood, and I had hit my head obviously. They didn’t know if I was going to make it. Sometimes, I dream about the explosion. I have nightmares about my dad, telling me I should have drowned with the rest of the crew, rather than become a dirty pirate. Most of the time it’s just that. But sometimes when they get bad—”

 

Jisung’s voice cuts off, and Minho is quick to pull Jisung into his arms he lets out a choked sob.

 

“Jisung, look at me.”

 

Jisung raises his head, eyes rimmed red and a bit puffy from rubbing them to dry his tears. Minho presses his hand against Jisung’s cheek and smiles at him.

 

“You deserve to be alive, okay? Those nightmares are nothing but bad dreams. Your dad is proud that you were strong enough to survive, okay?”

 

Jisung sniffles but nods slowly, cheeks flushing red when Minho doesn’t move his hand.

 

“You’re the reason I’m still here, you know.” Minho glances down and pulls out the necklace, watching as Jisung’s eyes flash in recognition.

 

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw this.” Jisung’s hand brushes up against Minho’s when he runs his thumb over the surface of the stone, now smooth from all the years Minho spent rubbing it for comfort when he felt lonesome or sad. “I thought I was dreaming, for a second, I thought that it might have just been stolen. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but then I saw you.”

 

Minho smiles, watching Jisung turn the stone over in his hand. His arm rests on Jisung’s waist, and he’s able to rest his cheek against Jisung’s head when Jisung shuffles closer into Minho’s hold.

 

“Minho, you know I love you right—?”

 

Minho tenses, heart skipping a beat. He lets out a shaky breath and looks down at Jisung, where the boy has stopped fiddling with the necklace and is looking up at Minho with wide eyes.

 

“Ever since I was a kid, even if I didn’t know what it meant. You don’t—You don’t have to say anything. I just spent so long thinking that I never got to tell you, and I don’t want to risk another day without you knowing—”

 

When Minho leans down and kisses Jisung, he only manages to catch the corner of Jisung’s lips, because of the angle they’re sitting at. It takes Jisung off guard, and Minho has to wrap both arms around Jisung to keep him from falling off the upper deck when he jumps in surprise.

 

“Sorry!” Minho laughs, breathless. “Sorry, are you okay?”

 

“You—” Jisung stares at him, unable to finish his sentence as he presses the tips of his fingers to his lips where Minho kissed him.

 

“I love you too Jisung.” Minho gently moves Jisung’s hand from his face and runs his thumb over the pirates lower lip, his smirk growing when he brushes past the piercing and Jisung’s breath hitches. “So damn much.”

 

Minho makes sure that he reaches all of Jisung’s lips when he kisses him again, feeling the thin metal ring in Jisung’s lower lip press against his own. The taste of the metal mingles with sea salt and something sweet that reminds Minho of the chocolates Jisung had given to him so many years ago.

 

When Jisung pulls away to breathe, Minho feels an odd sense of pride at the sight of Jisung with flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

 

“Jesus, you can’t take me off guard like that!” Minho laughs as Jisung whisper yells at him, smacking his shoulder, and drags him back for another deep kiss when Minho tries to dodge the assault.

 

They kiss when they should be keeping watch, but MInho couldn’t care less. Not when he has everything he’s ever needed right in his arms.

 

The next morning, Minho wakes up to Jisung in his arms, and the rest of the crew shuffling around the cabin as Woojin wakes them up.

 

He looks down at Jisung and presses his lips right below Jisung’s jawline, blowing into his ear until Jisung frowns and halfheartedly pushes his face away, snuggling deeper into his arms.

 

“Wake up Jisungie.” Minho hums, detangling himself from Jisung’s arms. He chuckles at the low whine that comes from Jisung when he leaves him alone, feeling the slightest pang of guilt when Jisung pouts and reaches out to him.

 

“Come back.” Jisung’s voice sends a shiver down Minho’s spine, even though the rough timbre from just waking up nothing Minho hasn’t heard before from Jisung.

 

“Hey!” Minho turns and tries not to look guilty when he makes eye contact with Jeongin, who is pointing at him and Jisung accusingly. “No kissing before breakfast!”

 

Minho feels Jisung shuffle up behind him and latch onto his back, hiding his face in Minho’s neck.

 

“They’re kissing now?” Felix pipes up, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he tries to flatten out his bedhead with the other. “That means Hyunjin owes me ten silver pieces!”

 

“Hold up, did you bet on us?”

 

Felix opens his mouth as if to say something, but must decide against it, choosing to run out of the cabin as he yells, “You’ll never catch me alive!”

 

Minho shrugs and finishes lacing up his boots, looking over his shoulder where Jisung has fallen asleep, arms loosely wrapped around his waist. He looks peaceful, and Minho feels a warm feeling bubble up in his heart when JIsung hums in his sleep and snuggles closer.

 

“Minho?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks for finding me.”

 

“Always. Now hurry up and get dressed before Chan eats all of breakfast.”

 

“I swear if he eats all of the fucking cinnamon bread before I get a piece again I’ll kill him—”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Sequel is up! 
> 
> comments/kudos are appreciated, I love reading y'all's thoughts ♡  
> thanks for reading!
> 
> artwork by sayuri.arts on instagram (pls give it love it's amazing)  
> [Jisung](https://www.instagram.com/p/BreC9bEgsKJ/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1713dj1hw5j56)  
> [Jisung 2](https://www.instagram.com/p/By0RgGyAJz2/?igshid=1pakzyyedi8v7)  
> [Changbin](https://www.instagram.com/p/BuPnIO0gJcv/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1g5o88zv8u6a3)


End file.
